


danger or trouble, i'm there on the double

by parkrstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Poisoning, College Parties, Drinking, Gen, Hazing, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, Wetting, handwavy medical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/pseuds/parkrstark
Summary: Peter gets into trouble at a party and he calls Tony for help. Tony finds him, but he isn't too well.





	danger or trouble, i'm there on the double

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt I recieved on Tumblr, "Could you do a fic where peter is at a party and he's drinking and then tony finds out by a tracker because May called him worried about where peter is? And then tony gets really worried and protective and picks up peter and he's takes him back to his place. Tony yells at peter on the way back and peter passes out or something."
> 
> I changed it up a little bit because I feel the 'Tony finds Peter at a party' prompt has been used several times. ANd I was also toying with the idea of Peter being the one to call Tony for help. 
> 
> So here is a fic that also teaches you dangers of drinking at college parties!! If you don't think this stuff happens, you're wrong. It's happened 4 times at my college this year (that I know of) and we're only 2 months into school. People are stupid and they will do stupid stuff so please, please, please, please stay safe if you choose to go to a party.

Tony gets the call at almost 2 in the morning. He usually doesn’t rush to answer his phone. He likes to make people wait for a few rings before picking up. It pisses off Important People.

But when Tony sees who is calling, he hurries to answer. The contact on his screen is actually an _important person_. He answers the phone and prays the kid is okay. “Peter?”

His reply is hesitant, “Mis…er Stark?”

The slurring has Tony shooting up in bed, now wide awake and alert. “Peter, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Par’y,” he mumbles.

Tony calms down slightly. The kid is at a party; he’s probably drunk. While that is not good, it isn’t like he is bleeding out on some rooftop. “Are you drunk?”

“Think so?” Peter doesn’t sound at all confident in his answer. “Som’thin’s wrong though, Mis’r Stark. Need help.”

Tony was already on his way to pick him up, but hearing that has his heart racing again. “What do you mean, ‘something’s wrong, Mr. Stark’?” Peter doesn’t respond. “Peter!”

Peter seems annoyed at Tony’s loud voice. “Idk,” the kid actually says IDK, instead of ‘I don’t know’, “Sick. Head hurts.”

“Have you gotten drunk before?” Tony asks, getting ready to go out and pick him up. Happy is sleeping so he needs to make the drive himself. Maybe Peter is reacting so badly to the alcohol because it is his first time getting this plastered.

“Don’t tell, May. Please,” he manages to beg without slurring his words.

“Kid, we have bigger problems. Is someone with you? Can they make sure you’re okay until I get there?” Tony is glad his elevator is fast to get him to the lobby without too much of a wait. “Peter,” he says again when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Hurts,” he moans.

“Do you know anyone at the party, Peter? Is Ned there? Can I speak to him?” Tony is scared because this doesn’t sound just like drinking too much. Especially with someone that has a speedy metabolism.

“Flash invited me. Liz here, he said. Haven’t seen her…” he trails off.

Tony’s eyebrows rise so high they probably disappear in his hairline. “You went to a party _Flash_ invited you to?”

“Liz is home for the weekend. Wanted to see her. Say hi.”

Tony wants to kill Peter because of his stupid naivety that puts him in so much trouble. “Peter, why would she come back to New York all the way from Oregon for a weekend and spend it at a party? Did you even call her? You trusted Flash, the same kid that tormented you until he graduated, to go to his party! Has he been near you? Is he there? Peter, for Christ’s sake, tell me you didn’t put your cup down around him.”

“Too much. Shhh,” Peter mumbles, sounding worse and worse as the call continues.

“Where. Is. Flash,” Tony grits out as he gets into his Audi. The car is driving before he’s even fully sitting. On his GPS, he has Peter’s phone location telling him where to go.

“Find Flash? No, I tr…I tried. He jus’ laughed,” Peter says and Tony doesn’t think it can get worse until he continues, “He gave me more. Build my tolerance.”

“You fucking…” ‘Idiot’ dies on his tongue because it’s not Peter’s fault that he put way too much trust into people. Especially those that enjoy hurting him. Peter doesn’t know any better about what to avoid at college parties or anything relating to alcohol or drugs.

“Don’t yell. Please. Sorry,” Peter says so pathetically, that Tony would never think he is the tough hero behind the Spider-Man mask.

“Okay,” Tony agrees. “No yelling.  Can you do me a favor? Get--.”

“Oh, Mis’er Stark, I’m ‘kay. Flash is back,” Peter interrupts him, sounding hopeful like that douchebag will help him.

“Peter, don’t hang up your fucking--.” The line goes dead before Tony can finish and the last thing he hears is obnoxious laughter.

“This fucking kid,” Tony mutters under his breath as he speeds down the street. He isn’t sure if he’s cursing Peter or Flash. Maybe both.

 

Getting to the party that is being held in some old warehouse, real original, doesn’t take too long. Tony stops his car in the middle of the street and slams the door shut behind him before running towards the building where the flashing lights and the blasting music.

He shoves past the kid at the front door that yells about how the entrance fee is $5 after midnight. He can barely see when he’s inside; the lights are set to a seizure-inducing strobe and he can only see dark figures every other second. God, Tony is too old for college.

“Peter!” He yells, barely even hearing himself over the music. His heart is beating wildly. This kid is possibly dying of alcohol poisoning somewhere and everyone is too busy drinking and grinding on each other to care.

He pushes through the crowd and ignores the ladies that try to pull him close. The only woman he can think about right now is May and how pissed she will be if Tony doesn’t find Peter. He isn’t sure where to even start looking for Peter, but he just keeps shoving through too many underage kids drinking their weight in cheap beer.

Someone upstairs must be looking out for Peter because not long into his searching, Tony finds him. Well, he hears him.

“No. No m’r,” his words are unintelligible, but Tony knows that voice.

“Just a little more, Pete, c’mon,” a familiar voice, that Tony hasn’t heard since he was bullying Peter in high school, says.

Tony does a 360-spin trying to find them. He finds them in the corner of the room, where there is actual lighting by the drinks table. Peter is slumped on the ground and drinking another cup that was shoved into his hand.

Flash is talking to two big guys wearing matching jackets with Greek symbols. “I’m done, right? He’s gone.”

“Nu-uh, Thompson, you haven’t gotten the trophy yet.” Frat Boy #1 smirks.

“What?” Flash falters, looking worried. Tony’s eyes flick to his shirt, it’s neon pink with the word ‘FAGGOT’ written across his chest in black block letters.

“Take off his underwear.” Frat Boy #2 crosses his arms over his chest. “If he’s actually passed out, you’ll be able to get it without a problem. Wear it on your head for the rest of the night and then we’ll talk about your spot in Alpha Sigma Phi.”

Tony realizes it’s a hazing thing.

Flash gulps and kneels to Peter’s side. He’s blushing, even Tony can see in the lighting, as he starts to unbuckle Peter’s pants. “Sorry, Parker.”

And that puts Tony back into action. He’s shoving past the crowd of kids in front of him, not caring that he knocks a few of them to the ground. He needs to get to his boy. “ _Peter_!” He screams.

Peter doesn’t hear Tony, but he stirs awake to try shoving Flash’s hands off his pants that are now down to his thighs. He opens his mouth to protest, but words don’t come out. Everything he’s been drinking that night does instead.

He throws up all over the front of himself and even Flash. Flash jumps away immediately, leaving Peter to throw up again, but he’s still laying on his back and now he’s choking on his own vomit. Tony panics and dives across the floor to close the last distance between them.

Tony rolls him to his side and rubs his back. He retches again and more comes out. “It’s okay, Peter, let it out.”

Tony tries not to think about how much Peter is throwing up and how hard he’s retching and how pale he is and how he’s shaking and how he looks minutes away from death.

Peter doesn’t stop vomiting for a few minutes. Then he’s just gasping and trying to catch his breath. He’s a complete mess, but Tony doesn’t let go of him. His eyes are glassy and he hasn’t even noticed Tony yet. Tony turns to Flash where he’s watching, looking terrified. “What the fuck did you give to him?”

Flash blinks. “Just a beer. He must be a lightweight.”

Tony grows furious at the outright lie. “I’m going to ask you again, and if you lie to me, I will _hurt_ you. What. Did. You. Give. Him.”

Flash flounders for a few seconds, unsure if he wants to give himself up. In the end, he realizes he can’t get out of this. “Beer. Vodka. Tequila. Uh, rum. Maybe s-some whiskey.”

“Are you stupid? Are you fucking stupid?!” Tony would punch him right now if he weren’t holding a shivering Peter in his arms.

“Is…Is he okay?” Flash asks, hesitantly.

Tony’s anger boils. “Does he look okay? How could you give him that much alcohol? Were you trying to kill him?”

Peter whimpers in his hold and he coughs out some vomit sitting in his mouth. Tony rolls him to his side, to help him get it out. Tony pulls his sleeve over his hand and uses it to wipe the sick off Peter’s face. Then he starts to pull his pants back up to his waist. Peter tries to push his hands away, but Tony soothes him with a whisper, “It’s okay, kiddo.”

As if the presence of an adult is detected by every kid here, the warehouse starts to empty out. The music stops abruptly and the strobe lights shut off. Peter stirs in his arms and he blinks around the room. It takes longer than Tony would like for him to focus on him. “M’r S’rk!” He manages to say with his eyes no longer squeezed shut.

He didn’t look passed out because of all the alcohol. He was trying to block out all the lights and the music. If it was enough to give Tony a migraine after a few minutes being in here, he doesn’t want to think of the damage it did to Peter and his enhanced senses.

“We’re gonna get you home, kiddo, okay?”

Peter tries to smile, but then he’s throwing up again, all over Tony. But, Tony’s not concerned with that. He wants to know why Peter is throwing up so much and so violently. He frowns down at the shaking boy. He looks much worse than drunk. Something isn’t right…

“Yo, Eugene, is he out yet? Told you the Xanax would get the job done.”

Tony’s heart stops. He knows it stops for at least a second before he turns slowly to Flash. Before he can yell at him, Flash raises his hands in defense and says, “I swear, I didn’t!”

“Dude,” the voice says again, “it was in the jungle juice.”

“You drugged him?” Tony asks, his voice low and threatening. He can’t believe any human being would purposely do this to another human being. Well, actually, he can. But, what he really can’t believe is that Peter is the one that it was done to.

“He only had like 3 cups of the jungle juice,” Flash sputters out like that makes everything okay.

“ _Only 3 cups_?” Tony gets up so swiftly, Flash takes a step back. But, he has more important things to worry about than him. He holds Peter to his chest and says, “If you want to avoid serious jail time, I suggest having the names of everyone that helped with this little game ready for the police.”

He doesn’t say another word before rushing out of the warehouse. The crowd of kids part for him as he screams for them all to get the fuck out of his way. He’s only a few feet away from his car when Peter starts to throw up again. Tony changes his hold on him and Peter is aware enough to sit up straight to not choke on his vomit.

Tony winds up holding him like he would to burp a baby. Peter is gasping and clutching at Tony’s shirt as he throws up over his shoulder. Tony hears it hit the pavement behind him. He rubs Peter’s back soothingly but hurries to get to the car because he can’t hold him up much longer.

“Tony, hurts,” he moans after his body finally decides to give him a break. Hearing Peter use his first name hurts more than it should.

“I know, kiddo. You’re going to be okay, don’t worry.” Tony somehow gets the car door opened with little trouble. He leans over and sits Peter in the passenger seat. He sees Peter try and lay down, but Tony can’t let him. He buckles him up and says, “If you need to puke, just do it. I don’t care about the car.”

He rushes to the other side of the car and jumps into the driver’s seat. Now that he has a light just above Peter’s head, Tony can see how much worse he looks than Tony thought. There was barely any color to his skin except for his rosy cheeks.

“FRIDAY,” Tony says, “call Bruce.”

The phone rings a few times and for a frightening moment, Tony doesn’t think he’s going to answer. But then, Bruce’s groggy voice comes over the line and he sounds like an angel. “Tony?”

“Bruce, I need you in the infirmary when I get back to the tower, okay?” He is speeding through the streets, trying to keep one eye on the road and one eye on Peter. The sweat is glistening on his face and the only thing keeping him from falling over is the seatbelt over his chest.

“Back? What, where are you?”

“Family emergency. I’m bringing back Peter. Stupid shits at a party gave him a shit ton of alcohol and Xanax and who knows what the fuck else.” Tony’s grip on the wheel tightens.

“How is he?” Bruce sounds worried. “Is he still conscious?”

“I don’t know. He answers sometimes, but he’s not coherent.” Tony looks over at Peter to see him holding a hand weakly over his mouth. “Let it out, Peter,” Tony says immediately. “Don’t hold that stuff in.”

“Bu…”

“No, buts, listen to your body. Get it out.” Tony needs to look back at the road so he doesn’t crash. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Peter trying to hold it back, but he loses the battle and throws up. This time, there isn’t much, but what little comes out is tinged red.

Tony panics. “Bruce. He’s bleeding. He’s throwing up blood. Why—?”

“Relax, Tony,” Bruce says and for the first time on the phone tonight, he sounds calm. “That’s normal if he’s been throwing up for a while. I’m more worried about everything else. How much longer until you’ll be here?”

“5 minutes?” Tony guesses, still not convinced to ignore the blood.

“I’ll see you soon. Keep him awake. I have to get ready.” And then Bruce hangs up.

“Hear that, Peter?” Tony asks. “You’re gonna be okay. Just gotta stay awake for Bruce. If you fall asleep, he may get angry. Let’s not make him angry, huh?”

Peter just moans and doesn’t show any indication to having heard Tony. “Go’a pee,” he mumbles with a scrunched face.

Tony’s eyes flicker over to him before back to the road. “Okay, buddy, we’ll be back at the tower soon. Can you hold it in just a few more minutes?” Peter groans and squirms in the seat. Tony isn’t sure if it’s because he’s having trouble controlling his bladder or if it has anything to do with the plethora of other issues he was dealing with. “But, if you need to go, it’s okay to go. Let it all out.” Peter is so out of it, he doesn’t even argue with Tony for telling him, a 16-year-old-kid, to pee his pants on the seat of a $200,000 car.

Tony hopes he holds it in because he really doesn’t want to have to clean that off his seats. And he doesn’t think Peter would be too happy tomorrow when he remembered what he did.

Because there is going to be a tomorrow for Peter. They aren’t losing him to this.

“’m sorry,” Peter says again and Tony’s eyes fly to his pants expecting to see he had an accident. But he’s good, just pinching his face in pain and squirming.

“Pete, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tony reassures him, even though he wants to yell and scream at him for being so _careless_. But, Tony knows he needs to give him time to cool down and Peter time to feel better.

Peter doesn’t say anything more and goes back to breathing heavily and unevenly. He has trouble catching his breath after every bout of retching, that no longer brings anything up; his stomach is empty. That’s the only thing telling Tony that he’s still awake.

They’re back at the tower in a few minutes and he leaves the car in the spot closest to the front doors. Usually, he would take the time to make sure his cars were parked in the underground garage. Tony runs to the other side of the car and picks Peter up in a bridal carry. Peter is too weak to hold onto him; he lets one hang by his side.

“FRIDAY!” Tony is yelling before he’s even in the elevator. “Medbay, now!” The second he’s inside the elevator, it’s shutting and moving fast to the lower levels. He stumbles out of the elevator and rushes to where Bruce is standing by an examining table.

Bruce hears him and turns to face him. His worried gaze falls on the limp body in Tony’s hold. He grabs some of his equipment and pats the metal table. “Lay him here.”

Tony does so and Peter groans, his eyes fluttering closed. Tony claps his hands loudly and yells Peter’s name. Peter stirs but doesn’t look coherent at all. “Stay with us, Pete.”

Bruce is at his side, attaching wires and checking his heart and blood pressure. He’s got the speed of any good doctor as he rushes to assess Peter’s condition. “He’s got alcohol posing. He’s lucky he’s who he is…if this were any other teenage kid, he’d be dead already.”

Tony has a bad past with alcohol, but never once was he this bad. Rhodey had told him so many times to be careful before he killed himself, but before he could, Rhodey was there to pull the bottle from his hand. Most times. Sure, there were times where he was pushing it, but he never required a hospital trip to get his stomach pumped.

“His metabolism is higher, which usually helps, but the liver enzymes that are supposed to take care of the alcohol and the Xanax are the same, so it’s taking longer for his body to flush it all out.” Bruce is turning him on his side, so if he needs to puke again and something comes out, he won’t choke.

Peter opens his eyes and he doesn’t say anything until they lock onto Tony. He mutters something that Tony can’t understand. Tony leans forward as Peter tries to say it again. Tony shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re saying.” Peter grunts in frustration and tries to push himself off the table.

Bruce grabs his arm as he slips an oxygen mask on his face. Peter shakes his head as tears start to drip from the corner of his eyes. Tony wants to help him so badly. He asks again, “Peter, what’s wrong?”

One of Peter’s hands go to his crotch and Tony remembers Peter telling him he needed to go to the bathroom.  Tony promised he’d be able to go in the tower. Tony turns to Bruce where he is setting up an IV drip. “He needs to go to the bathroom. He told me in the car and I forgot.”

Bruce doesn’t even look up. “It’s fine. We’ll have to change him out of those clothes anyway.”

“No, Bruce,” Tony argues after realizing what Bruce is insinuating. “I’m not going to let him piss his pants. He may be out of his mind, but I know if I were him, I would much rather use the toilet that is only across the room.”

Bruce looks sympathetic, but he’s a doctor and he doesn’t worry about his patient’s feelings; he cares about helping them survive. “I’m more worried about getting him through the night than a little shame, Tony,” he says seriously.

“It’ll be two minutes, I swear--.”

“Tony, he’s already hooked up to machines and IVs. His body is dehydrating; he needs water and if I don’t get sugar in his blood soon, he may start to seizure.” He doesn’t pause to have this argument with Tony as he continues to hook up another IV in his other arm.

Tony swallows and goes back to Peter’s side. He kneels by his head and takes Peter’s hand from his pants. “Peter, I know this is the last thing on earth you want to do, but you have to just let it all go.” Peter seems to understand enough of what Tony is saying to stare at him with wide eyes. “Don’t give me that look. Remember when I said, you need to let your body get rid of all the bad stuff? Well, your liver is doing that and it needs more room in your bladder.”

Peter shakes his head with tears falling down the sides of his face. He wants to argue, but the oxygen mask over his mouth keeps him quiet.

“Hey, it’s okay. No one will ever know.” He lets out a laugh. “Did you know I peed myself at my birthday party in front of dozens of people. And no, that is not a story from when I was a little kid. I was over 40-years-old.”

“If he keeps holding it in, he’ll get infections, Tony,” Bruce says.

Tony glares and snaps, “I know.” He doesn’t mean to be upset with Bruce; he knows he’s only doing his job. Tony takes a deep breath before turning back to Peter and running his fingers through his sweaty hair and resting his hand on a clammy cheek. His skin feels cold. “You can do it, kiddo. Close your eyes, pretend you’re in the pool.” He tries to smile, but he can’t when he’s watching the kid struggle to even breathe and there’s nothing Tony can do. “I’ll get you that new Lego set you want. The $800 Millennium Falcon. I was saving it for Christmas, but this is a good time for a present too.”

After a long moment of silence, Peter’s grip on his hand tightens and he pinches his eyes closed finally. Tony keeps his gaze on Peter’s face even after there is a slight smell of urine hitting his nose and Peter’s eyes open. “See,” Tony says, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Peter does look a little more relaxed, but even more embarrassed. He’ll be even worse the next morning when he is coherent enough to comprehend what he did.

“Good, good,” Bruce praises and he starts to pull off Peter’s shoes. When he starts to tug at Peter’s pants, Tony needs to help him. Peter struggles to see what is going on, but now that the pressure on his bladder is gone, he seems content with just letting his eyes drift closed. Tony grabs his belt loops and pulls down, ignoring the dark patch that is clinging to his thighs. 

“Tony, while I get him changed, can you get as many blankets as you can? He could get hypothermia if we don’t watch his body temperature.” Bruce doesn’t need to ask twice before Tony is running to get more blankets. He goes up to his bedroom where he has a heavy but soft blanket thrown at the bottom of his bed. He has a handful of blankets before he is back in the infirmary.

Peter is rolled on his side still with only a sheet covering his waist. Tony tries not to look at the pile of clothes on the floor. He hopes Peter wasn’t too attached to the outfit he wore tonight.

Once he is at his side, he wraps the blankets around Peter’s shivering body. Peter sighs as he attempts to pull the blankets closer around him. Peter’s eyes don’t open and he looks close to falling asleep. Tony turns to Bruce, “Can he sleep now? Is he okay?”

“He was retching before, but nothing came up. So, I’m assuming he’s just about emptied his stomach. Now, we just have to wait and keep an eye on him.” Bruce is no longer running around the infirmary now that he has everything set up.

Tony is almost afraid to ask, but he does so anyway, “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

Bruce looks down at him and nods his head. “We’re lucky you brought him in when you did. If he stayed at that party much longer, I’m not sure I could have done much to help.”

It’s always at the knick of time with Tony. He never does anything with plenty of time to spare; it’s always with the clock running out on its last seconds.

Now seems like the easy part—just grab a seat and sit. But, waiting is the hardest part. He doesn’t shut an eye the entire night as he holds Peter’s hand and waits for him to wake up again. He’s not going anywhere.

* * *

Peter doesn’t open his eyes again until the afternoon. Around 8, Bruce told Tony that Peter was pulling through and he was going to be fine. Tony was so relieved to hear that and could sit with Peter as he rested without giving himself an ulcer.

Peter’s eyes move lazily around the room until they settle on Tony. Tony doesn’t move while he watches Peter figure out what happened and why he is laying in the tower infirmary. “Mr. Stark?” He asks for some help with the clarification.

“Feeling better, kiddie?” Tony tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice as he leans forward to help him take off the oxygen mask.

“Thirsty. Head hurts,” he whines.

“I’ll bet,” Tony scoffs. He studies Peter’s face as he asks, “Do you remember what happened last night? How you almost gave me a heart attack?”

“What…” Peter starts off, but then he seems to remember because his face turns beat red. “Oh my God, Mr. Stark!” He gasps, “I can’t believe I threw up all over myself and Flash and you and your car!” He looks close to panicking. “I am _so sorry_.”

Tony frowns. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? Not the fact that you almost _died from alcohol poisoning_?”

Peter isn’t listening to him. His eyes widen in mortification and he says in a low voice that steadily rises, “You let me…Mr. Stark, there is a bathroom right there!” He throws his hand towards the other wall as his voice cracks.

“Peter, you were hooked up to like 5 machines that were keeping you alive. And you couldn’t even stand up. How were you supposed to go to the bathroom?” Tony huffs.

“I don’t know!” Peter yells with bright red cheeks. “You’re the genius! You invented a new element for crap’s sake, you couldn’t have figured out to let me go to the bathroom without _wetting myself_?” He refuses to look Tony in the eyes.

“Stop being such a baby,” Tony says and Peter cringes. Whoops—poor choice of words there. “With everything going on last night, peeing yourself should have been the _least_ of your worries. Bruce says you should be lucky you had such good control of your bladder because usually, that’s the first to go. But, thankfully, you held it in until you were here with us instead of the party. Flash and his buddies would have _loved_ _that_.” Tony’s voice is accusing as he rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Stark--.”

“No, I don’t want any of your excuses,” Tony interrupts what he assumes is an apology.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Oh, great, here comes the, ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’ speech.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I am angry, alright. I am _furious_. You went to a college frat party with a kid that gets off on making your life hell. You didn’t bring a friend along--.”

“He told me it was an invitation for one person--.”

“Parker, the adult is speaking,” he growls before continuing his scolding. “And you didn’t tell May where you were going. I called her and she thought you were sleeping over Ned’s house! But, no you were being an idiot at a party!”

“Mr. Stark, I thought--.”

“I don’t care what you thought, Peter! But do you want to know what I thought? When I saw you almost passed out on some dirty concrete floor with kids shoving red solo cups under your nose for you to drink, which you had no problem with doing, for some stupid hazing trick, I thought, ‘I hope he doesn’t fucking die’.”

Peter stays quiet as Tony yells. He looks ashamed, but it’s not because he puked everywhere or his accident.

“Why would you drink like that? I get it; you’re a teenager and occasionally, having a beer with your friend doesn’t hurt. But, this wasn’t just a beer with Ned!” Tony runs a hand through his hair. “This was the whole fucking bar! And most of it was spiked with Xanax and other shit!”

“I didn’t know it was drugged!”

“Yes, you did,” Tony says and before Peter can argue, he continues, “You knew you were drinking alcohol. Alcohol is a drug. It isn’t a party game. It isn’t a great way to have fun and lose control and do stupid shit. The way you drank tonight, that wasn’t safe. That’s a great way to get hooked, kid.”

“Mr. Stark, I would never become addicted to it,” Peter swears.

Tony chuckles. “I thought the same thing, kid. I went to college at 15-years-old. I wanted to be cool and drinking and partying seemed like the way to go. Well, guess what? Before I knew it, I was doing crazy drugs, drinking until I passed out every night, and waking up next to people I didn’t even know. Does that sound like something you wanna spend your life doing?”

Peter finally looks ready to stop trying to argue Tony’s every point.

Tony takes in a deep breath, figuring Peter has had enough yelling at. “I just don’t want you to turn out like me, kid.”

“That’s not you,” Peter says quietly. Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Sure, it was you and it will always be a part of you, but when I look up to you, that’s not what I see That’s not why you’re my hero.”

Tony knows if he asked, Peter would give him every single reason he admired him, but he doesn’t need to hear that right now. He needs Peter to understand. “Drinking isn’t a game, Peter.”

“I know and I’m _so sorry_ for everything. For puking on you and worrying you and causing all this trouble and calling you out--.”

“Don’t apologize for calling me,” Tony stops him. “I’m proud of you for knowing to call me when you didn’t feel safe. No matter how much trouble you knew you’d be in. Whenever you’re anywhere and you feel like something is wrong, call me; _tell me_.”

Peter nods, looking down at his lap. Tony ruffles his hair and lets his hand rest on his head before saying, “Now it’s time to call May.”

Peter winces at the mention of his aunt. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have to tell her everything, right?” Peter asks, trying to sound hopeful.

“Yes, you do. We are not hiding anything from your aunt. Next time before you do something stupid, ask yourself if you would want Aunt May to know what you are doing. If the answer is any form of ‘no’, don’t fucking do it,” he suggests.

“Okay. But, like, she doesn’t need to know the details. Like when I upchunked all over myself and the car and you. Or when I was forbidden from using the restroom. Please?” Peter ends in a small voice.

Tony laughs. “Okay, kid, but only because I think you’ve been through enough today. But, you fuck up like this again and I’m giving Bruce permission to write about it in his blog.”

Peter laughs too, but it’s a nervous chuckle like he knows Tony isn’t kidding.

Good, that should scare the kid to be a little less stupid. Hopefully. But, if it doesn’t, then Tony will always be there to pick up the phone.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any Peter and Tony prompts, send them to my tumblr, [peter-tony.tumblr.com](https://peter-tony.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (the title of this fic is totally inspired by the kim possible theme song bc the way tony was like "no matter what, call me" this song fits so well. love it)


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